The Osceola times., 1887-05-07
THE TOMB OF JULIET.
The ul.Fated Maiden's Apocryphal Rest
ing Place at Verona, Italy.

ing Place at verona, itaiy'
Ny first stroll through the town was
in search of the supposed tomb oil Ju'
liet. Shakespeare drama it was which
naturally suggested to me such an idea.
The story of the ill-fated lovers had
made such an impression on my miha
that it was with veritable enthusiasm
| sauntered out in order to pay my de-
votions to the mortal remains OF her
who. in the hands of England's great
est dramatist, contributed as much to
idealize the sweetest and tenderest OF
human passions. On my way to the
tomb. however, all my fervor eyapo-
rated after half an hours conversation
with several ancient antiquarlans' win
one of whom happened to be on inti-
mate terms during my residence III
Milan, having been informed Dy
them that the tomb in question
was rank imposture; that u
ever there existed such a person as
Juliet. there is not the slightest
shadow of proof for supposins tha'
her ashes are in Verona; and finally,
that the whole story of her burial in
that town was invented by set OF
iradesmen and hotel proprietors, eager
TO catch and fleece unsuspecting OF
credulous tourists. My feelings at be-
inr thus rudely woken out of my cher
ished illusions can be better imagined
than described. However, as it was
not by any means the first of my Span
ish castles that toppled over into the
neither abyss Just as | found myself in
the act of admiring its stately grandeur
and fine proportions, i soon managed
to put up patiently with the inevitable
and resolved to see at any cost this
apochryphal dwelling of the dead.
After u half hours promenade through
noisome lanes and alleys, ! happened at
last on gateway some twelve feet
high, on the summit of which were
written the following words in large
/ rough characters: "Tomba di Giul-
yetta.n The iron door stood ajar, and
| entered an inclosure of half square
acre, oyergrown with weeds and dog
nettles, that seemed to me to have been
at one time a garden. And was SUBJ
sequently informed that the roses
| bloomed here and the marigold and
hyacinth kept watch and ward over the
solitary tomb hard by. If Juliet had
been really buried here, when the
flowers were in blossom and the trees
had their wealth of frondage and the
zephyrs thrummed their melodies
through the overhanging foliage, her
last resting place would have been cer-
tainly in thorough harmony with
her character and temperament
but at present there is no scene
so incongruous as this black bar
rem wilderness-no casket so utter
" unworthy of its gem. GROUP
of artisans out for holiday were play
inc at skittles within stones throw
of the tomb, and their oaths, curses and
other calculations were quite the re-
verse of poetical. The tomb lies in Q
kind of an clubhouse, and presents de-
cidedly antique appearance. It's some
what in the shape of an open mauso-
leum, the sides of which are rather ir'
regular, owing, ] was told. to the chips
stolen from the block by enthusiastic
tourists. Around the mausoleum stand
broken pillars and roughly hewn pedes-
tails. while on the wall TO the left, as
you enter, hangs a very old painting OF
Friar Lawrence. The stones here and
there are covered all over with auto
graphs of Europeans, Americans and
English, prominent among the latter
being that of a certain Edward Shakes
peare, a gentleman who, according to
the well-informed porter, was a
very near relative of a very great poet
who was very near relative of Ro-
meo's betrothed. Cor. San Francisco
] lIyn,,taIS